Shattered Pieces Do Speak

I really don't know why

Today, in all these thoughts,

The weed of vengeant peace,

Is fiddling to find its spots;

But certainly,

Oh my delicate heart, you sink

With a flush of emotions, my mind,

Cannot stop creating a link;

As I dig my unwary heart again,

It feels as if it was all about sand and pixie dusts then,

And of course were the tight knots, that I do feel,

Have been turned, inevitably

Into bruises that once used to hide behind the veil

Your heaviness, oh my fragile heart,

Entangles the strings

Of symphonies, reciting their ballad

And stops my caged spirit,

From opening its wings

But now,

Oh my echoing past,

You kindle my latent voice,

Buried for long in the chasm,

It yearns to make some noise

"Yes, Shattered pieces do speak

Yes, Shattered pieces do burst out,

After all those endurements and sleepless nights,

No doubt, Shattered pieces do shout!

Shattered pieces do feel ignored,

But indeed, shattered pieces always stand out of the horde."

I wish those pieces could become one again,

And confront the world with their powerful pen;

So, I suggest

Grab this impalpable chance,

Be careful, yet carefree

And get rid of this trance.

Be what your pinkish pump, wishes you to be,

Go! Let the captive birds inside you

Escape out and flee.